


Break

by MattBird



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MattBird/pseuds/MattBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I really wanted to do something with Bond's pain, because it's really a prevalent theme in the newer films with Craig, but it's also deeply discussed in Ian Flemming's original novels.</p><p>Title: Break<br/>Fandom: James Bond 007: Skyfall<br/>Pairing: Q/007<br/>Genre: Angst/Romance</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break

A soft clack sounded in the almost silent bar as Bond set down the crystal tumbler from his hand after he finished his drink. His head swam with vibrant colors and fuzzy outlines, his bones ached as he closed his eyes for a minute, trying to shrug off the sickness that clung to his very soul. The great James Bond was broken, his heart tired, and his body held together with prayer and wishful thoughts.

He'd lost his classical demeanor, a permanent frown now creasing his features as he stared down the bottle of scotch in front of him, countless pills making it seem like the glass was breathing, swelling and shrinking, calling his name and begging for the touch of his hands.

"James." the voice was somewhat meek, and not coming from the bottle. This surprised Bond greatly, before he realized who it was.

"Q." his voice was cold, but it still had a slur.

"Come on, the bartender called me, it's time to go home." he pulled gently and Bond snapped his shoulder forward, breaking it free from the Quartermaster's grasp.

"Sod off." he growled, "I can take care of myself, Q. I don't need you or anyone else."

"Bond... Come on..." Q whispered, his voice strained. He hated seeing his partner this way, strung out at four in the morning in some back alley bar, "Just let me help you."

"I said sod off!" he spun around grabbing the fabric of Q's shirt and pushing him back down on the bar, growling fiercely, "I /hate/ you Q. I hate the way you make me feel." the stinging odor of alcohol assaulted the Quartermaster as he felt Bond above him. "Why can't you die like the rest of them." Bond felt his throat close up, his chest tightened considerably as he watched Q tear up.

Everyone he had ever loved died because of him, Countless women, along with Vespa, Fields. Each one had been extinguished because of him. He was toxic, caustic, a hurricane of a man, shattering the lives of everyone he came into contact with. He didn't want to break Q like he had broken so many others.

He knew what he had done, what he had said. Letting go, Bond turned his back on the technician and took a deep breath before swaying heavily to his left and starting to lumber away. He didn't make it to the door, grief overwhelmed him and knocked him to his knees. Dry sobs broke the silence between him and Q, who was already rushing to his side, pulling an arm over his shoulders, lifting him to his feet.

"I'm not going to die just yet, Bond. You need me and I need you." he murmured, "Besides, James." their eyes met as he helped him down the street towards their flat, "I've still got spots on my face."


End file.
